


Traditions

by LittleWritings



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 22:30:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6677911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleWritings/pseuds/LittleWritings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alice and Alistair make a yearly trip to a cemetery. Modern AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Traditions

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I've written these two... and never in a modern AU! Feedback is always welcome.

The world around them was quiet but for the pitter patter of cool rain onto cold ice. Inside the car was just as quiet, the radio off, the heater set to low. Alistair’s gaze was focused ahead, one hand gripping the wheel a little too tightly, the other gripping her hand with equal strength. Alice gave it a little squeeze, as she always did, in hopes it would help her husband relax.  
This day on the calendar was always cleared of all scheduled events. No meetings, no conference calls, no presentations. That had been established the first year Alistair had taken over the company, business would not disturb this most solemn day. It hadn’t disturbed the day in ten years. Initially, Alice had micromanaged the scheduling down to the minute to assure that nothing unanticipated would appear and make life… difficult. Although her husband was the leader of the company, she couldn’t completely shake the desire to lead. The Blight had not helped her settle for things that didn’t go her way, she had made sure they always went her way. Even now, ten years later, she had reviewed Alistair’s schedule herself to make there were no holes that needed fixing. The schedule was perfect, not a hole in sight, but Alice only felt relieved after she’d looked it through twice. They had been making this journey for ten years so everyone who was anyone at the company knew the drill, but it was too important for Alice to let it slip past her.  
They had awoken early, as always, to get on the road before sunrise. It was reminiscent of their time spent as Wardens, always moving before any other living creature stirred, though that didn’t rule out the darkspawn. They had eaten a quiet breakfast before leaving the apartment, Alice lingering in the lobby to avoid the cold while Alistair cleared off the car. He had returned late from work the previous evening, a new trend, and had not bothered to park in the parking garage next door. While normally she would remind him that their apartment came with a specific spot for their car in the garage, she appreciated the tiny amount of normalcy that came with sitting in a frigid car still half covered in snowy slush.  
They were out of the lights of Denerim quickly, it was still too early for the morning rush to work and just past the time when those who worked through the night went home. They flew down the freeway when they reached it, Alistair’s foot coaxing the car faster and faster. He always seemed anxious to get there, some old remnants of events passed. But just as it hadn’t mattered then, it didn’t matter now—the drive was the drive, time kept its own schedule.  
They arrived an hour or two after dawn, the whole world lit in white around them. The pitter patter of the rain was more pronounced than it was in the city, but that was likely due to the fact that nothing had come back to reclaim what had been lost to the Blight all those years ago. Their way had been marked by crumbling and burned out farms, blackened and blighted barns, reminders that their past was not as distant as many liked to believe. The parking lot hadn’t been cleared of snow, their tire tracks were the first and only set for weeks, the frozen snow crunching beneath the weight of the car. Alistair cut the engine and they sat in silence, listening to the rain against the car. Alice swiped a thumb across the back of his hand, waiting for him to make his move. After moment he sighed and let go of her hand, opening his door and stepping out into the rain. She waited for him to approach the gate and open it before she exited the car, her hands shoved deep in her coat pockets. Alistair was halfway down the cleared gravel path, shoulders hunched, when Alice crossed it herself. She only watched him for a second before she came to the little cottage tucked near the entrance beneath some pine trees. She knocked sharply on the door and then stamped her feet to keep the cold from her toes, looking back toward the road. It didn’t take long for the door to creak open, the old woman smiling sadly as she beckoned Alice inside.  
Every year as winter turned to spring Alice and Alistair made this trip to the cemetery. Every year Alice let Alistair go first to the grave, stopping by the grave keeper’s cottage to collect the flowers and thank her, yet again, for her wonderful care of the graveyard and memorial. Every year Alice trudged out to the grave, holding crystal grace in one hand, the other shoved in her pocket. Every year she found her husband standing quietly before a grave, his gaze intent on the headstone. Every year she carefully stepped forward and laid the crystal grace near the marker, arranging it so it didn’t obstruct the writing. Duncan. In peace, vigilance. In war, victory. In death, sacrifice. Every year Alice stood next to her husband without touching him for as long as she could stand it, eventually wrapping an arm through his and twining their fingers, leaning in close to his side. It was not often that Alistair allowed himself to remember, running a large international company kept him busy enough with tedious demands, but this one day a year all he did was remember, remember what was lost… and what was found. He’d usually be stiff for a moment after Alice took his hand, but then he’d seem to thaw and unwind, releasing her hand in favor of wrapping his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to his side. He’d press a kiss to her hair and murmur something like “I miss him.” and she would nod in sympathy, looping an arm around his waist. They’d stay there for a little while longer before wandering back up the path to the parking lot and their car. The ride back to Denerim would still be quiet, but it held less anticipation and more peace. They’d retreat inside their apartment and spend the rest of the day in each other’s company, keeping each other from falling head long into memories best laid to rest. By the evening things would be back to normal and emails would be checked, business arrangements prepared for the next day, life returning to its normal pace.  
Normalcy would come to a gentle stop again when summer turned to fall as Alistair would take more time away from his duties to fly out to Highever. It was he who brushed his thumb across his wife’s knuckles, pressing gentle kisses to her temple as they approached her family’s estate, visited with her brother and, eventually, made the trip to see her parents’ final resting place. She would be just as quiet and apprehensive, taught with tension as they walked the paths to the graves, but the tension would always release when they reached their destination, her eyes holding resignation and sadness as she looked upon the graves. Alistair would stay with her for a while before taking his leave, entrusting her to her brother and leaving them to mourn together. He’d walk the rest of the grounds, taking his time to circle back to the cars waiting to take them back to the Cousland Estate. Alice would have recovered herself by the time they reached the grounds of her family home, her smile radiant as ever even though it couldn’t quite reach her eyes. Alistair would be there later when the smile wasn’t enough to get her through, tears taking its place. They would return to Denerim within the next two days, their visit inevitably cut short by the necessity of returning to work.  
Alice and Alistair continued the cycle, paying their respects to those that had made the ultimate sacrifice so that they didn’t have to.


End file.
